Adagio
by AustinJ13
Summary: Maka dies. Rated T for character death and self harm. SoMa. Trigger warning for self harm. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ok, new story! This is my first time writing Soul Eater, death, romance, and in third person. This is completely made up. I made it in Language Arts cause I had to. So it's not like anyone's going to read this… but if anyone IS, then I'll stop rambling…**

**Warnings: OOCness **

**Disclaimer: If I owned this, do think I would be making a fanfiction about it?**

"S-soul?"

"I'm here Maka," he whispered.

"Is everyone o-okay?" her voice sounded tired and beaten. Defeated. Like giving up.

"Maka-" his voice cracked. He sounded tired too, but he also sounded desperate. Like he was holding back tears. The red-eyed boy quickly tried to regain composure. "Let's get you to Lord Death. This is so uncool that you got beaten like this."

The blonde girl cracked a small smile and even giggled. The boy sighed; maybe she would be all right. He must have jinxed something as she coughed up some blood staining her hand and clothes. The boy winced in sympathy.

The albino grunted as he picked her up. Or tried to. She was like a child who didn't want to be picked up, keeping all of her weight on the ground.

"Don't Soul." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"What?" he asked, not thinking she was serious.

"Don't"

He sank to his knees. "But-"

She interrupted by hitting him on the head with an extremely thick book. Where she got it, he had no idea.

"No." The emerald-eyed girl said between coughs, hacking up some more blood, leaving more stains. The boy rubbed his head. Not as bad as Maka-Chop, but it still hurt.

"Dammit Maka, why'd you do that?" he muttered looking at the ground. When he looked up, her eyes were glazed over.

"Maka?" he asked softly, hoping she had just zoned out. "Maka? Maka! Wake up! Damn!" the red-eyed boy shouted, pounding the ground, not looking at her; the tears were coming. He couldn't fight it; he let the tears flow. "No… no… you can't be dead. NO!"

After a few minutes, he had controlled himself a little more, and forced himself to look at her. He closed her eyes, picked her up, and dragged himself back to the fort.

**A/N: I feel like I dragged this out too much. Heck, this is probably the shortest time I've taken to write a story. Reviews are awesome *hint hint* Constructive criticism is welcome, and flames are used to roast marshmallows. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Kay, so I've had some people ask for a new chapter, so here it is. Thanks to all who reviewed!**

**Warnings: OOCness**

**Disclaimer: Do you really think I own this? I'm 13, people, 13.**

It was cold. Very cold. And it was lonely. He looked up at the sky, his red eyes looked tired.

"Why Maka?" he muttered. "Why'd you have to go?"

Soul turned so he wasn't facing the grave, but a tree instead. Everything was so fresh in his mind, it might have happened yesterday, not two months ago.

"Hey man," a familiar voice said. Black*Star put his hand on Soul's shoulder. "You okay?"

Soul merely nodded.

"Cool." Black*Star flopped onto the ground. "C'mon, why won't you look at her grave?"

"I just… can't. It hurts too much."

Black*Star jumped up from the ground and gripped his friend's shoulders. He grinned.

"So… maybe if you actually TRIED to look, you might get rid of some of that hurt. Just saying. Gotta go train. See ya."

Soul just waved as Black*Star jumped over the cemetery fence, not exiting the graveyard by walking through the gate, like a normal person.

Soul pondered what Black*Star had just said. Maybe… just maybe… he was right.

He turned to look at her grave. Maka's grave. And he stared at her grave. Soul couldn't believe it, it happened too fast. He couldn't do anything. He was merely a powerless weapon. And he let his Meister die.

**A/N: Please review! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay everyone! I am back! Sorry. I lost all motivation to do anything, but I wanted to start this story up again. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater**

**TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM, MENTIONS OF BLOOD. **

Soul didn't know how to deal with the death of Maka.

And so, the guilt set in.

It had to be his fault. He was _there_, he should've done something. Gotten her to Lord Death, to anyone who could've helped.

Why didn't he?

—

I never meant to start this awful addiction, Soul thought to himself.

The blade slid across his wrist again.

The red beaded up across the newly created cut. It matched the color of his eyes. He watched as it slowly ran down his arm. He was at calm, at peace.

Pretty, he thought.

It's been nearly a year since "the accident," as everyone referred to it.

After a few more minutes he rinsed the blade and his arm, then placed a piece of gauze on it and wrapped around it.

He sighed and felt tears rising up, but he forced them down. It's not cool to cry.


End file.
